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My Oldest Poem

Hail all;

I wrote this the day after a Jesuit priest taught me and my fellows in a high school-level Roman Catholic (my cradle religion) "Sunday school" about reincarnation, past life regression, human energy fields and how to feel/control them.

Talk about "Liberation Theology!"

Under his tutelage I remembered 5 deaths in battle, plus a young lady of my acquaintance who was in that class with me; I felt that we had been together in a previous life or two. To this day I will swear that a physical spark of energy exchanged between us that night.  We were a natural fit, but life took us in different directions and we parted as friends.

She died several years ago, but I love her still, deeply.

I am lucky, for I had a second shot at true love. My wife and I have been together for the better part of 31 years (including the time we dated).  I would be deadened without her.

I like to joke that I gave up the Church for Lent in 1975; here's one of the results.

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Fragment from a Battlefield - 17 March, 1975

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The waiting is the hardest part

The not knowing; the hanging time

The thoughts of clash and thoughts of crash

The thoughts of home and family

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I look across the open field

At long dark lines of massing foe

The air is thick with stink of fear

But courage is, to duty do

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The bugles blare , call the advance

The foe gives voice; an awful sound

My comrades march, then charge and fight

No brave man I, but fear is held

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I keep my place by shieldman's side

The steely line comes straight at me

My life becomes this final act

To win and live, or lose and die

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I was barely 18 years of age when I wrote this and new little, if anything, of life.

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